


The Sweet Simple Life

by gaygreekgladiator (ama)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Prompt Fill, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 13:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/pseuds/gaygreekgladiator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mira moves to a new city, she meets a random woman at a bus stop; things progress from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweet Simple Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amorekay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/gifts).



> This was based on a wonderful fanmix from alemonlemoned/amorekay/skylilies (here on 8tracks: http://8tracks.com/amorekay/city-girl) as part of the Spartacus Reverse Big Bang. Thanks so much to rivlee for beta'ing, and I hope it does the prompt justice!

1\. The Jezabels, City Girl

_No more will I look around and wonder how it all began  
_ _No more will I look around for you_

Mira is sitting at the bus station, silently reciting the number and arrival time of her bus over and over. She is more familiar with walking, riding a horse, carpooling, driving a car, driving a truck, hell, driving a _tractor_ than she is with public transportation, but she figures that this is a valuable skill and she might as well get used to it. Every few moments she glances up and down the street and hopes that the bus isn’t late, because she has an interview soon. Going by the schedule, she should arrive in the right neighborhood with twenty-three minutes to spare, but _her_ schedules always seem to be better than anyone else’s.

The bus stop is empty except for one other woman, around her age, who is sitting on the bench and reading, and a middle-aged man who leans against the enclosure. His back is to her, so she looks at the other woman from the corner of her eye.

She’s wearing a black, off-the-shoulder shirt that reveals a softly golden tan, and her long blonde hair falls loosely over back. Mira’s gaze falls to the book the woman is holding. Her nails are rosy pink and tapping against the cover of the book.

“Cleopatra,” the woman says with a tentative smile, tilting the book so Mira can see the cover. Mira is startled, but she manages to put on a smile that looks friendly instead of creepy.

“Anything interesting?”

“Sure. It’s not my style, exactly,” she says, shrugging. “My friend is a historian; we made a bet that I would read this if he sat through both Sex and the City movies.”

“So I’m guessing his willpower was more than you expected.”

“He watched longer than I did!”

“I’m Mira,” she says, laughing.

“Chadara.”

Just then, the bus pulls up, and Mira jumps up guiltily, thinking that she should maybe be more focused on her interview and less on attractive strangers, but Chadara stands, too. Mira takes a seat on the bus, and even though it’s half-empty, Chadara pauses next to her, quirks her head, and asks if she can sit beside her. It’s only polite, she thinks, as she moves her bag and smiles.

 

2\. Ingrid Michaelson, Masochist  
  
 _When will I feel all soft on the inside?  
_ _When will I feel all soft on the inside?  
_ _When will I feel soft, soft?  
_ _She says you’re a masochist for falling for me_

 “There’s someone,” Mira admits, and her heart flutters as she drums her fingers against the table in a steady rhythm that Naevia appears to find very distracting; she keeps glancing at the table, though she doesn’t say anything.

“Someone?” Aurelia repeats, bouncing Janus on her knee. Every time his floppy yellow curls—so like his father’s—bounce into view, Mira’s heart leaps. She still can’t get over the fact that one of her old college roommates has a _baby_. They’re too young for this, aren’t they? “Like… romantic interest someone?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Mira admits, because while _she_ has been doing her best to flirt with Chadara at every opportunity, she isn’t completely confident that Chadara is doing the same. Also she’s met two of Chadara’s ex-boyfriends at parties, and if her taste in women is _anything_ like her taste in men, then Mira is royally fucked.

“What’s their name?” Naevia asks, sipping her lemonade in an attempt to look as casual as possible.

“Chadara,” Mira says, and pretends not to notice the significant looks exchanged between her friends. She’s been out to them for years, but the ratio of men to women in her recent romantic history is heavily skewed. To their credit, they barely react.

She sits back in her chair and momentarily directs her attention to her French fries. She picks at her food, swirling a fry around in the ketchup and letting it fall. A lot has changed in the past few weeks: she has her own apartment, a new job, a hesitant collection of new friends. It’s a lot to take in, and she’s more grateful than she can express that Naevia and Aurelia live in the same city, because just having them around makes her flash back to more familiar times—long nights spent in their cramped dorm room with cheap beer and cheaper pizza. Even if Janus is intruding this time.

Idly, she wonders if she’ll ever have that kind of nostalgia towards Chadara—if someday she’ll look back at that first low-key party in Chadara’s apartment, with the faint odor of cigarette smoke in her hair and the high-pitched note in her voice as she introduced Mira to her boisterous friends.

Of course, there’s also the possibility that she’ll look back with embarrassment at the fact that she spent most of the night trying to subtly gulp in the scent of Chadara’s perfume.

“You could just _ask_ ,” Aurelia suggests.

“Unless you’re afraid she has a fiancée halfway across the country,” Naevia says with a sly grin, and they all have a good laugh at Mira’s rather more bold, and very doomed, pursuit of Spartacus way-back-when.

“Speaking of which,” Mira says. “Are you engaged yet?”

“Not for lack of trying,” Naevia frowns, with that fond exasperation that always seems to seep into her being when she’s thinking of Crixus. “He wants to do it the ‘right’ way, still. I swear to God he’s dragged me into half the jewelry stores in the city and he just can’t find the perfect ring. _I’ve_ found sixteen I’d be willing to wear, but you know how he gets.”

They happily discuss romantic woes and baby stories for the rest of the meal, and Mira is just returning to her apartment when she gets a text from Chadara. _Super slow at work so my boss let me go—want to catch a movie?_

And ten minutes later, Chadara is at her door, alone.

“Hey,” she says with a grin, and very casually leans forward to press her lips to Mira’s cheek.

“Hi,” Mira says. Her voice is a bit breathless and she clears her throat. “Do you mind walking?”

“No problem. It’s a nice day.”

When they reach the street, the wind teases Chadara’s hair and she tilts her head up with a happy sigh to catch the breeze. Before she can think to stop herself, Mira reaches out and takes her hand.

 

3\. Mozella, More of You  
 _Every time I’m ready to go_  
 _Every time I think I’m back in control_  
 _Something gets my heart and my soul_  
 _And I’ll be begging for more of you, more of you_

“I have got to meet this girlfriend,” Castus says, shaking his head. “And/or make you something really fucking strong, because girl you are _lost_.”

For the third time this afternoon, Mira jerks herself out of oblivion and grins apologetically at her sort-of-boss-sort-of-coworker.

“Sorry,” she says with a shrug, but Castus shakes his head again.

“Don’t,” he says. It’s slow so far, the after-work rush being somewhat lackluster, and he entertains himself and their handful of regulars by juggling shot glasses. Mira itches to snatch one out of the air, just to see the look on his face. He stares up at them casually as he speaks. “As a hopeless romantic myself--”

She snorts and his eyes fall to hers.

“Something to say?” he asks, playing at severity, and she holds up her hands to protest her innocence. “Anyway--as a hopeless romantic, I know what It looks like, and m’dear, you’ve got It. Ah, to be young again.”

“Yeah, you’re ancient,” she snarks. “Put those down, will you? Before you kill one of us.”

Castus sighs dramatically, but he somehow manages to get every glass down on the bar without so much as cracking them.

“So when’s the wedding? And that’s not a stereotype,” he says hastily, when she raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Because of the two of us, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who’s ever moved in with someone after three weeks.”

Mira laughs in disbelief.

“And how did that work out?”

“We’ve been engaged for three years,” he smirks triumphantly.

“… Wow. Okay. Well, that’s not exactly my plan. We’re taking it slow for now.”

Castus remarks that slow is basically a synonym for boring, but Mira punches him in the arm and he lets it go. Later that night, Chadara comes into the bar, with her roommate and his boyfriend in tow, and Mira’s heart leaps into her throat the second Chadara’s eyes land on her. She knows for a fact that Chadara and Nasir have their own regular bar—they’ve been going there for years. This is the third time they’ve come here instead, and she has a feeling she knows why.

That thought comes later, of course. In the moment, all she can think is that Chadara looks really, really good with her hair slung over her shoulder like that, and her eyes framed by deep violet eyeshadow that makes them look even more vividly green than usual.

Chadara makes a beeline for her, while Agron and Nasir say hello to Castus; he’s gotten in the habit of flirting terribly with them, which amuses Nasir and annoys Agron and keeps all of them busy for quite some time, leaving Chadara free to chat up a storm with Mira and sneak a quick kiss without being teased for it.

“Hey,” she says, though she doesn’t draw back too far. Mira could tilt her head just a little bit, and their lips would touch again. “How are you?”

“If I said better _now_ …” Mira says flirtatiously, and Chadara giggles.

“I would call you a wannabe Casanova and laugh at you.”

“With Castus right there? How dare you, madam?” Chadara laughs again, and Mira feels like her grin is reaching her ears. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“That is a conflict of interests, my dear,” Castus says as he clasps her on the back. “Why do you always monopolize the pretty girls, hmm?”

“Because you ignore us for the pretty boys,” Chadara sighs despondently. “And my ego needs to be stroked by somebody when you’re not around.”

“A role Mira’s born to play, I’m sure,” Castus says with a wicked smirk. A flush creeps across Mira’s face, and she resolves to hit him again soon, when there aren’t customers watching. “What can we get you?”

Chadara gives him her drink order, and the two of them both turn around to get glasses for her, Nasir, and Agron. Castus glances over his shoulder, sees that they’re not listening, and leans closer to Mira to speak under his breath.

“Taking it slow my ass. You are absolutely besotted.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Mira rolls her eyes, but when she gives Chadara her drink, Chadara smiles at her and inclines her glass in a little toast, and Mira thinks that she likes the word he used: _besotted_.

 

4\. Charlotte Martin, Keep Me In Your Pocket

_Push me deep into your English Channel.  
_ _Your palm sweat- it isn’t all that I can handle.  
_ _I love you, it is an understatement-natural.  
_ _Please baby, keep keep me in your pocket_

She wakes up one morning when everyone else in the apartment is asleep—and probably will be for a while yet. Mira likes to wake up as early as she can, but she has yet to see Chadara or Nasir get out of bed before they absolutely have to. She goes to the kitchen and turns the radio on, humming softly to herself as she digs through the cabinets. Nasir and Chadara are, frankly, hopeless when it comes to nutrition and fresh food and cooking, but between the two of them, Agron and Mira manage to keep them from starving or rotting away.

In the back of the cabinet she finds a pack of muffin mix. She makes those first and puts them in the oven; they’ll be ready by the time Chadara wakes up. She’s not particularly fond of muffins, so she roots through the fridge. She makes cheesy scrambled eggs, and her toast is just popping out when Nasir emerges from his bedroom, yawning, and makes a beeline for the coffee machine.

“Good morning,” Mira says with a nod and a smile.

“‘Morning,” he yawns.

“Eggs?”

He waves her away and leans against the counter as Mira sits at the table and eats her breakfast.

“You’re up early,” she notes after a few minutes, when something resembling life has returned to his face.

“I didn’t sleep much,” he says with a shy smile. Most people might blush to utter a line like that, but Nasir has a remarkable gift for completely ignoring any innuendo, unless it’s intentional. Nevertheless, there is some deeper meaning to his words, and Mira is eager to find out what it is. He hums with energy.

“What?”

“Hm?”

“Tell me,” Mira insists, grinning. “There’s something exciting going on, isn’t there? Surprise party, elopement, a puppy…”

“Not quite.” He glances at Chadara’s bedroom door, and sits down at the table across from Mira. He leans forward. “Don’t tell Chadara that I told you first—Agron and I are moving in together.”

Mira’s eyes widen.

“Congratulations! When? And you haven’t told her yet?”

“I’ll tell her today,” he says, looking at Chadara’s door again. “I feel bad… we’ve been looking for an apartment for a few weeks, and we haven’t found anything, so I felt like there was no need to bring it up. I was going to tell her after we’ve got some coffee in her, and maybe take her by the new apartment. What do you think?”

“Pfft, take her to a bar,” Mira suggests. Nasir laughs and agrees that that proposal is more likely to be met with Chadara’s approval.

“Agron’s lease is up in two weeks, so he’s moving in then, but I might stay a while longer—or at least, pay my share of the rent for this place longer. It’s a bit last minute, I know, and I want to give her some time to find a new roommate. Or a new apartment,” he adds as an afterthought, sipping his coffee.

“You really think she’d want to move?” Mira asks, puzzled.

As far as she knows, Chadara loves this apartment—it could be closer to work, it’s true, but she has a favorite grocery store and bar and park and everything. Of course, some of her attachment could be pure nostalgia. It was her first apartment, and she and Nasir have lived here since Nasir’s junior year of college, she knows. That sense of both independence and community is hard to shake.

“If she had somewhere to go,” he says slyly, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup.

\----

Three days later, they’re helping to move stuff into Agron and Nasir’s new apartment.

“Nasir has… so much… _shit_ ,” Chadara whines. They’re taking a break, because there is no fucking way they’re getting this awkwardly-shaped couch up the stairs without help, no matter how much they pivot. She flops on the cushions. “Remind me to never move. Ever.”

“Never ever?” Mira teases, dropping on the couch next to her.

“Never ever ever,” she says solemnly.

“I think someone needs a beer.”                                                                  

“I think I need a kiss,” she counters.

Mira chuckles and leans forward for a kiss. Chadara sighs dramatically and lets her head fall back against the pillows, and Mira kisses her neck. She’s very ticklish—she squeals and tries to push Mira away.

“Lesbians! Not on my couch!” Agron calls in mock outrage from the elevator, where he is carrying up heavy but entirely normal-shaped boxes. That asshole.

“Fuck you,” they chorus, and he winks as the doors shut.

“Anyway,” Mira says, carefully brushing Chadara’s hair out of her face. “I think you should reconsider that not-moving thing.”

“Should I?”

“Yeah. I think you should move… into my apartment.”

Chadara looked stunned for a brief minute and Mira’s heart kind of fell out of her chest. Then a grin spread across her face like a sunrise, and her heart grew three sizes.

“Oh really?” Chadara said in a soft voice.

“Really.”

“Really really?”

“I love you,” Mira says, and Chadara smiles sweetly. Mira leans down again….

“Come on, guys, not on _our couch_ ,” Nasir whines.

 

5\. Emily Wells, Dirty Sneakers and Underwear

_Love, love we got plenty  
_ _Got more love than we ever had money  
_ _Joy, joy we got a lot  
_ _Best friends in a parking lot_

It yawns, exposing tiny white pinprick teeth, and Mira bites her cheek to keep from outright squealing.  Diona smirks and Mira has a feeling that she is not fooling her sister in the slightest. She clears her throat and reluctantly shifts her attention away from the small kitten.

“How many others in the litter?” she asks.

“Four,” Diona says, and she reaches behind her to lift another off of the big fluffy pillow. The kitten doesn’t even seem to notice, and it cuddles against her and goes right back to sleep. “All males. Dad figures we’ll keep two, give one to Melitta and Oenomaus, one to Gannicus because you know how jealous he’ll get—this one’s for him.”

She points at the kitten in her lap, and Mira laughs because she doesn’t need to look at the rest of the litter to tell that this one is the blondest and thus perfect for him. She scratches the head of the cat in her lap, and it wiggles happily.

“And this one?” she asks.

“Not sure yet,” Diona shrugs. “Thought we might give it to one of the neighbors or something.”

Their parents are out of the house at the moment, shopping, and she and her sister are technically supposed to be setting the table for dinner. If Mira were to guess, she would probably say it had taken forty-three seconds for them to abandon that task in favor of sitting on the living room floor, gossiping, and playing with the little balls of fur. The proud new mama, whom they had creatively named Snowball when Mira was in sixth grade, is lounging on the couch and watching them.

“Well, you do have a girlfriend,” Diona says, apropos of nothing. Mira raises an eyebrow.

“Is that a crude joke about how I don’t need a cat anymore?” she asks, because Diona so would, but her sister just grins widely.

“Look at you, go off to the city for a few months and your mind is in the gutter. I was just going to say that all you have to do is go like this-” She holds the blonde kitten up beside her face and pouted. “And all of a sudden it’s ‘Mira I love you I can’t resist, stay with me forever darling.’ And then sex! Yay sex!”

“Diona!” Mira says, although she doesn’t even bother trying to sound scandalized.

“Just saying.”

“Is that the plan with Gannicus then?” Mira teases, and Diona very hastily changes the topic.

“So when am I going to meet this Chadara?”

“The next time you visit me, if you actually spend time with me instead of going off with Naevia all day.”

“Pft, I see you all the time--I only see Naevia a few times a year. But seriously, cats are the ultimate romantic gift and that one likes you,” she says, pointing at the cat in Mira’s lap, who is purring as she scratches gently behind its ears.

“I don’t know...”

They hear the roar of the truck engine, freeze, and then look at each other with that same, wide-eyed, ‘we’ve been caught’ expression they’ve shared since Diona was out of diapers. As one, they drop the kittens (who give tiny yowls of irritation) on the pillow and scramble to get into the kitchen and set the table. Their parents walk into the room to find them fighting over the plates and shake their heads, utterly unsurprised. It’s nice to be home, Mira thinks with a smile.

Just before they sit down to eat, Diona comes out of the living room again, with a triumphant laugh.

“Am I the best or am I the best?” she asks, holding up Mira’s phone.

“Di, what did you do?” Mira demands, snatching it out of her grip.

There’s an outgoing text: I picked up a present for you today... what do you think? And then a picture of the small brown female, curled up on the pillow and leaning against one of her brothers. It’s an absolutely irresistible picture, and Mira is therefore not ENTIRELY surprised to see that Chadara has responded “OMG YOU ARE THE BEST ARE YOU SERIOUS. I LOVE YOU <3333”. She looks up at Diona’s face and sighs.

“Get over here, you lousy kid,” she orders, and gets up to give her sister a kiss on the cheek, which Diona ducks.

“You should bring her here,” she suggests as she sits down.

“I will, someday. I promise.”

 

6\. The Jezabels, Mace Spray

 _But it is alright,  
_ _Here in the time and the place I am,  
_ _You leave a light on all night,  
_ _Just to remind of the place I am_.

Mira hasn’t been sleeping well, and it has been a crazy-as- _shit_ night at the bar, and for the first time she really, truly understands the phrase “dead on your feet,” because it’s a miracle that she’s still upright and conscious of her surroundings. She manages to open the apartment door on the third try and falls into a chair in the kitchen. A weary sigh passes her lips as she pulls off her boots; the bottoms of her feet feel like one enormous blister.

She could stand up, brush her teeth, make it to the bed—but really, Mira just wants to rest for a while. She pillows her head on her elbows and closes her eyes, ready to fall asleep right there.

There is a light on in their bedroom.

Even with her eyes closed, she can tell; the light filters through her eyelids, peachy-yellow. With a yawn, Mira opens her eyes to see a light under the crack of their bedroom door. Chadara must be reading late. Wearily, Mira stands and stumbles into the room.

Chadara isn’t reading. In fact, she isn’t even awake. She’s lying in their bed, on top of the covers, next to a set of Mira’s pajamas laid neatly on her side of the bed. Mira is so struck by the sight that she doesn’t notice the door still swinging towards the wall. It clatters against the wood, and Chadara stirs.

“Hey,” she mumbles with a yawn.

“Hey,” Mira whispers.

She steps closer and leans down to press a kiss to Chadara’s cheek. It’s warm from where it’s been pressed against the pillow. She kicks her shoes off and sits on her side of the bed.

“How was work?”

“Over. I didn’t mean to wake you—sorry.”

“‘S fine,” Chadara says. She rolls over and buries herself more deeply in the cushions. “Don’t sleep in your jeans, you’ll hate yourself in the morning.”

Mira smiles fondly at her, and strips off her clothes even though her muscles are burning. The pajamas are cool and soft against her skin, and she stretches out comfortably under the sheets. She is about to whisper good night, but Chadara’s breathing is already deep and even. If she isn’t asleep already, she will be very soon, and Mira doesn’t want to wake her a second time.

She smiles to herself, kisses her fingertips, and lets them rest gently on top of the blankets, in the curve of Chadara’s waist. Mira closes her eyes, and the last thought that drifts through her mind is that she likes not living alone anymore.

 

7\. Cold War Kids, Audience

_You came out from the country wearing mama’s clothes  
_ _You were born in the city with daddy’s domino’s  
_ _You need a record you can move to, well, we got one  
_ _Drop the needle, we are playing for an audience of one  
_ _Drop the needle, we are playing for an audience of one_

Mira had been on some disastrous dates in her lifetime—in fact, there had been a brief period of life where she had agreed that any potential romantic partner needed to be vetted by Aurelia and Naevia first—but this took the cake.

“Well that sucked,” she sighs, pulling her hair out of its high bun. She kicks off her shoes as she walks through the door and Cinnamon comes over to wind through her feet. Chadara follows her and kisses the side of her neck sweetly.

“Don’t worry about it, Mira. It’s all my fault. _Really_ ,” she repeats with a laugh when Mira sends her a miserable look. “Nasir will tell you; I have horrible birthday luck. At least nothing was set on fire this time.”

While she is grateful that Chadara isn’t upset, Mira can’t help but disagree with her. She had wanted this night to be... well, as close to perfect as possible. They’ve been together for almost ten months—she’s already imagining a dozen more birthdays, anniversaries, landmarks and special moment, and she knows they can’t all be fantastic, but this one feels like some kind of beginning. Right now, it’s not a very auspicious one.

The first minor catastrophe had come when Castus very inconveniently fell violently ill, and Mira had been obliged to stay late until the owner could take over. Chadara had been left waiting at her apartment for over an hour. Then the first birthday gift--a new dress, pink and soft and just her style--had been a size too small, because apparently it was too much to ask for women’s clothing designers to implement a sizing system that actually _made sense_. As a result of Mira’s lateness, they had lost their reservation at the only Greek (Chadara’s favorite) fine dining restaurant that she knew of in the city.

Chadara had cheerfully suggested their favorite diner instead, which Mira was okay with, although she did feel cheap--not to mention out of place in her formal wear.  Their poor waitress had twisted her ankle on the way over to their table, splattering them with various sauces, coleslaw, and Diet Coke, and as a final indignity, the heel of Chadara’s favorite shoe snapped off when they were walking home.

All in all, Mira considered herself damn lucky that Chadara’s allowing her into the apartment at all.

“I’m going to grab a beer,” she calls to Chadara, who’s already flopped on the couch and rubbing at her feet. “But I got some wine for tonight—want any?”

“Sure.”

She returns to the living room with their drinks and sprawls over the couch with Chadara and Cinnamon. She lets her head fall against the back of the couch with a weary sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she says, for maybe the thirtieth time that night. “For all that--and my attitude, too, I don’t mean to bring anything down.”

Chadara smiles at her sweetly and places her wine glass on the coffee table so she can cuddle closer,  her chin tucked against Mira’s shoulder. Her breath tickles.

“Sweetheart, I have had many, many shitty birthdays, and this was not one of them. We had a nice meal, we had time to talk--more than we would have at Thesmophoria probably, because all the servers there are super professional and would never allow us to try _on_ the food before we ate it, and you are a marvelous girlfriend who has gotten me a cat and a dress that I _would_ have loved, and some really gorgeous lingerie for herself that I found in your closet last week.”

Mira looks at her reproachfully.

“That was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Sex is never unexpected for me, darling--I always know when you’re scheming.”

Mira sighs again and begins to play with Chadara’s hair, looping the loose curls around her finger.

“I wanted this to be... something special. Nasir was telling me about all the shitty, lackluster dates you’ve been on and I thought ‘oh well I need to show her, I’m better than that, I’m going to stick around longer,’ and now it feels like the whole thing is bust.”

Chadara kisses her collarbone.

“I’ve been on really fantastic dates, too, and people bailed more quickly than you have. And no offense, babe, but did you really think that a fancy dinner, wine, and lingerie was ‘something special’? Good lord, it’s every romantic movie ever. Don’t be embarrassed!” she says hastily when she sees the blush on Mira’s cheeks. “Didn’t I just say that I enjoyed myself? I’m just saying that there are romantic clichés, and then there’s real life. We’re _not_ a cliché--except for the cat. We’re real people with real interests and no audience. A date is just... time spent with you. That’s all I want, all I need, and its own romantic cliché, to be totally honest.”

Mira thinks about that for a moment, shakes her head, and drinks her beer.

“I’m being a whiny ass, aren’t I?”

“Mm, little bit,” Chadara agrees, kissing her neck again, and then tracing further down. “Now, about that lingerie--you know I love a lady in red.”

 

8\. Nouela, Fight

_I’m holding on by a thread, I’m held together by tape  
_ _I’d love something more permanent, but I don’t wanna raise the stakes  
_ _I don’t wanna fight, I don’t wanna fight_

They’re not speaking to each other at the moment, and it hurts. Mira can’t sleep; she fidgets all night, staring sightlessly at her side of the room. Books lie in neat stacks on the floor, tubes of lipgloss sit on every flat surface, and her shoes are piled wearily by the door of the closet. She doesn’t look at Chadara, and when the other woman wakes and gets up to begin her day, she pretends to be asleep. With her eyes closed, she finally gives in to exhaustion.

At first, she waits in the apartment all evening, expecting Chadara to come home so they can scream at each other or something. But twice in a row, Chadara texts “picked up another shift tonight” and she decides to work more, too. Castus sympathetically gives her some extra hours, and she gets to the bar early, before the after-work rush, and lets him try to cheer her up.

It doesn’t really work, though, because once business picks up there are always a few idiots who flirt too much—so much so that Mira regretfully ruins her chances for a good tip by giving a more forceful rejection than usual. Her typical response to this breed of bargoer is “Sorry man, I’ve got a girlfriend,” but she chokes it down and says “I’m out of your league,” instead. She doesn’t like brushing Chadara away, but she doesn’t want her voice to break either.

On the third day of this, she comes home to find the lights in the kitchen on, boxes of Chinese food on top of the stove, and Chadara watching television in the living room. She is wearing an old, worn blue t-shirt that brushed the tops of her thighs, and her hair falls in stiff waves around her shoulders, locked in place by the remnants of hair spray.

“You’re still up,” Mira says, surprised.

“Yeah. I got vegetable fried rice and crunchy noodles—you hungry?”

Starving. But this has the potential to be the longest conversation they’ve had in days, so Mira just shrugs and walks into the living room. She sits on the couch, and there is an awkward pause as she wonders if she is allowed to kiss her girlfriend—if this is the way the fight is going to end.

Deliberately, Chadara leans over and gives her a peck on the lips. She leans against the cushion, not touching her, but not very far away, either. The next move is hers, and Mira reaches over hesitantly to let her arm drape over Chadara’s shoulders. They sit for a moment in silence. Finally, Mira breaks it into a thousand shards, with the thought that’s been brewing in her mind for three days.

“You always say that you want this to last. Is that true?”

Chadara looks at her, dumbfounded.

“Is it true? Of course it’s fucking true.” Mira winces at her tone.

“I don’t want to fight,” she says wearily, and Chadara sits up. She looks incensed.

“I do. What the hell has been going on, Mira? First you’re avoiding all my friends, acting like it’s none of their business who you are and how you’re doing—when they’re _my friends_ , mind, and they have every fucking right to make sure we’re happy—and then you’re making all these snide comments and accusing me of shit and--”

“I’m not accusing you!” Mira protests. “But I don’t know, Chadara, you don’t talk to me about these kinds of things. Not seriously. I mean--you’ve slept with half your friends, okay?” A heavy pause drops between them, and she tries to make her voice softer. It comes out raspy. “I know that, I’m okay with that, but then I see you flirting with them and hanging out and acting the same way you act with me and I’m thinking fuck, what if that’s me in a month? What if this is going to fade and I’m just going to be a friend again?”

Chadara’s face is white. She stands up and turns towards the bedroom door.

“Great. Fantastic. I’ve given you three days to think this over, and _still_ the best point you can come up with is that I’m a slut. Wonderful.”

“No.” Mira jumps up and grabs Chadara’s elbow because she’s desperate, and lets go just as quickly. “No, baby, listen, that’s not it, I swear. I _swear_. I’m not blaming you, I’m blaming myself, and... and all this internalized shit that I’ve never dealt with. I--I’ve been there, you know? I’ve slept with... enough people to have those same words thrown at me, and at the time I...” She swears she can feel every bump of her vertebrae as she swallows thickly, but she’s determined not to cry. “I didn’t like myself very much. All right? And every damn time, if it was someone even halfway decent, they ended up just losing interest, and I ended up alone.”

Chadara has slowly turned around, although her face is still guarded. She crosses her arms, which pushes up the fabric of her shirt, and Mira realizes for the first time that it’s not hers--it’s Mira’s. That’s the shirt she got as a senior on the volleyball team in high school. They had run out of her size, so it’s about three times too big for Chadara and falls past her thighs. The sight of it steals her breath.

“I know what that’s like,” Chadara says softly. “Except for the ‘friends’ part. Once people lost interest, I was usually ‘trash’ instead.”

“Which is fucking bullshit,” Mira says dutifully, her voice vehement. “Because you’re one of the greatest women I’ve ever known. And I should have known better that the way to work this out was to actually talk about it, instead of...”

“Ignoring me. Making passive-aggressive comments and then walking out when I tried to address them, and not coming back for eighteen hours and _scaring the shit out of me_ , and then not talking for three days?”

“Yes.”

Chadara hesitates, as though she really wants to be tough for a little bit, but she breaks down and throws herself into Mira’s arms for a tight hug.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” she says. She doesn’t cry--she never cries about stuff like this, but Mira can hear the roughness and relief in her voice. “I love you. I love you more than anyone else I’ve ever met, and I fall in love really fucking easily, you know?”

“I know,” Mira laughs, and the corners of her eyes feel wet. “I love you, too.”

“And this thing... it’s going to last no matter what you do.”

Mira buries her face in Chadara’s hair and clings on to her tightly. They stand there for a long moment, not speaking until Chadara offers again to get Mira some food. She accepts, and resolves to eat quickly so they can go to bed, together, for the first night in too long. She’s anticipating a good night’s sleep.

 

9\. Uh Huh Her, Covered

_Covered by the dark, no light  
_ _You’re covered in my hands tonight_

Mira can’t see her in the darkness, but she doesn’t need to. She knows Chadara’s body better than she knows her own—the slope of her hipbones, the raised bumps of the occasional stretch mark, the creases of her fingers. She tilts her head and silently drops light kisses onto Chadara’s closed eyelids, and whispers “I love you.”

Chadara’s hands roam her bare back and settle low on her waist, holding her close, pulling her flush against her own body. She doesn’t speak, but her breath catches, so Mira repeats the words again and again just to feel the beating of her heart race.

It’s dark, and she closes her eyes and revels in the warmth and beauty of the woman she loves.


End file.
